Gods and Clods
by Shufflebot
Summary: We humans work as a society, and in order for a society to thrive, we need gods, and clods. I have a slightly higher intellect than others. But I still need people to pump my gas, and make my French fries, and fix my laundry machine when it breaks down -


**I found this oneshot lying in my computer, apparently it was completed a month ago.**

* * *

Gods and Clods

Stanley Marsh frowned as he passed a man and a fearful looking woman, the woman was wearing rags and she was wearing a metal collar around her neck with a rope dangling from it. The rope was in the man's hand and the sight made Stan sick to his stomach.

Stan's family had been evaluated and deemed to be rich enough to not become slaves after the Slave Law had been introduced when he was thirteen. The poorer people in society had been forced to become slaves and Stan hated it. He had left home at seventeen after leaving school at sixteen and getting a job at an insurance company, this gave him enough money to buy a house in San Diego because housing prices were so low and his father had already bought him a car. That was almost a month ago, it was law that someone had to own a slave after a month of moving out or they would become a slave themselves, Stan was running out of time.

He saw a group of people dressed in black running out of an alleyway ahead of him and he looked inside seeing a boy around his age whimpering on the ground, Stan walked over and knelt beside him, the boy was wearing rags and he had a slave collar on he was also wearing a worn ushanka that was lime-green. The boy was barefoot and it was the middle of winter, he was lucky that he wasn't frostbitten.

The boy backed away from Stan in fear, slaves were often mistreated and it occurred to Stan that the boy had probably run away from his owners.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Stan said gently, "Let me help you."

The boy looked up at him and glared, his green eyes darkening, "You're just like anyone else, you love to see us suffer for you."

Stan knew that he should have expected this, "I'm not like that."

The boy turned his back to Stan. Stan sighed and picked him up, the boy was very light.

"Put me down!" The boy yelled.

"Just let me help you," Stan pleaded, "I won't hurt you."

"Why?"

"I don't think slavery is right, I never have."

The boy relented as Stan put him in his car and strapped him in before getting in the driver's side.

"What's your name?" Stan asked.

"Kyle," The boy mumbled, "Kyle Broflovski."

"Did you run away?"

Kyle snorted, "If you lived with the family I did, you would too."

Stan nodded.

"Please don't send me back," Kyle's voice was small and quiet.

"I won't if you don't want me to."

* * *

Stan pulled into his driveway and led Kyle into his house, now able to see the extent of his wounds, just a few bruises and cuts.

"Go into the kitchen and I'll clean you up," Stan said as he ran upstairs to get his first-aid kit.

Stan came down moments later, but the first thing he turned to were Kyle's bare feet and he slid some thick, thermal socks onto them. He had noticed how short Kyle was and that he was incredibly skinny, probably because his owners didn't feed him much. Kyle had a small duffel bag with him, but Stan wasn't going to look without permission.

Stan cleaned Kyle's wounds and Kyle sat in silence. Stan could see that his previous owners had beat him before.

"What's in the bag?" Stan inquired.

"I'm diabetic," Kyle explained, "It's got my insulin and glucose meter. I also stole my documents and my slave card."

"Where were you going?"

"I don't know, I just had to leave."

"It'll be too cold to go out now," Stan said, "Why don't you stay here?"

"Where's your slave?" Kyle asked, "My masters had ten."

"I don't have one yet," Stan said, "I need to get one in three days if I don't want to become one myself."

Kyle bit his lip, this guy had been kind to him, taking him in, cleaning his wounds and giving him socks. That could change though.

At the same it might not, so Kyle took the plunge, "I could be your slave."

Stan was gobsmacked by the offer, "Are you sure, you could leave tomorrow if you wanted."

"And get picked up by somebody else? You've at least been kind to me."

Stan nodded, "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping tonight."

Kyle followed him up the stairs and into a small bedroom.

"This is usually my guest room," Stan explained, "You can stay in here for now."

Kyle nodded in silence.

"It's already 11:30 and I have work tomorrow," Stan rubbed his eyes to accentuate his point, "I'll leave you to go to bed."

* * *

Stan was woken in the next morning by the smell of smoke, he bolted upright and leapt out of bed. He ran downstairs and into the kitchen, only to see Kyle with a frying pan in his hand.

"Wha…?" That was Stan's incredibly intelligent reaction to the situation.

"Slaves are expected to have breakfast prepared for their master when they wake up," Kyle explained, his eyes became wide and fearful, "I'm sorry I couldn't have it ready in time."

Stan relaxed, "Don't worry about it, I'll make my own breakfast tomorrow. You don't have to do this."

Kyle nodded as he plated up the food, he knew better than to argue with his master.

"Where's yours?" Stan asked as the plate was slid in front of him on the kitchen table.

"Slaves only eat the scraps that are leftover."

Stan stood and got another plate from a cabinet and moved half of his breakfast onto it, "These are my scraps then. Eat up."

Kyle took the plate and sat on the floor with it. He _was_ hungry, and he wasn't disobeying any orders.

"Why are you sitting down there?" Stan asked.

"Slaves belong on the floor because we're lower in society."

"Well sit up here, you're not lower than me in this house."

"Yes master."

"Don't call me that, my name is Stan, not 'master',"

"Yes ma… Stan."

Stan smiled, "There you go."

Kyle just cast his eyes down to his plate.

"When I leave for work, you can do what you like. If you decide to leave, lock the door first so I don't get robbed."

Kyle nodded.

* * *

When Stan got home from work the house was silent, he assumed that Kyle had left. Kyle had cleaned up after himself before leaving, the house had been a mess because Stan hadn't gotten around to tidying up and Kyle had done it for him. Stan smiled as he went upstairs to get changed out of his uniform and opened the door to the bedroom.

Kyle was on the bed, naked and with his backside in the air, his hole lubed and stretched. Stan could see the lube his dad had given him as a housewarming present on the bedside cabinet.

"You'll thank me eventually," He had said.

Kyle had his face in the pillow so it couldn't be seen, something Stan assumed was out of embarrassment. Stan took his dressing gown from the back of his door and draped it over Kyle, hoping to preserve some of his modesty. Kyle lifted his face from the pillow and looked at Stan, who was looking away.

"Put that on," Stan said as he sat on the bed.

"Yes master," Kyle replied, starting to tear up.

"Hey, I told you to call me Stan."

Kyle nodded, he sat behind Stan with his back to him, closing the dressing gown around himself and looked to his feet in shame.

"What was that about?" Stan asked.

"My old owners used to use the slaves that had served them longest for… relief," Kyle explained sadly, "I thought you would be the same."

"Did they ever use you?"

Kyle shook his head, "Luckily."

"I'm not going to do that Kyle," Stan said, "That's something only the most shameful excuse for a human would do. I only want to have sex with the person I'm in a relationship with."

Kyle's body shook with suppressed sobs.

"What's wrong?" Stan asked, concern evident in his tone.

"The first thing you see when you enter your room is me with my ass in the air waiting for you to use even when I don't want you to, I'm filthy."

"That's not true!" Stan replied vehemently, shocking Kyle into facing him, "You're not below me and you're not filthy, you're someone who's been fucked over by this joke of a society!"

Kyle's mouth just opened and closed like a fish.

Stan calmed himself before continuing, "You're just following the example you know, but in this house that can die in a fire. In this house, if you decide to stay, you are my equal. You can ask things of me and if I ask them of you, you can say no. If you want to sleep in, you can sleep in. If you want to take an hour in the shower you can. You'll only wear the collar out of formality, you're a human being in here."

Kyle was still sobbing.

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want to," Stan said softly, shifting so that he was sitting next to Kyle.

"Thank you," Kyle choked out, throwing his arms around Stan, "In this world, you're a godsend."

Stan blushed, his lower half was very conscious of the fact that the person hugging him was naked underneath the dressing gown.

Kyle noticed the bulge and retreated, "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"No… I…" Stan took another deep breath, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you're actually pretty hot."

Kyle smiled slightly, "I can take care of that if you'd like."

"I told you, I'm not using you like that."

"I could suck it."

"No, it isn't fair to fuck you or do anything similar if there's no feelings involved."

Kyle moved away again, "I'm gonna go get dressed."

"Sure thing," Stan nodded.

* * *

The letter fell through the letterbox on Stan's day off.

" _Dear Stanley,_ " He read, " _This letter is to remind you that to today is your last day to purchase a slave. If you do not own a slave by midnight, you will be taken to become a slave yourself._ I thought you were my slave?"

"I need to be registered," Kyle explained, "I thought you knew this."

Kyle had become a lot more comfortable around Stan during the time he had been living with him, although he still pandered to stereotypical expectations of slaves at times.

"Well then let's go," Stan said, picking up his car keys from the cabinet and going to get Kyle's documents, "We need to get you new stuff to wear anyway."

* * *

Kyle was wearing some of Stan's old snow boots that were luckily the right size and he was waiting by the boot of the car.

"What are you doing?" Stan asked, "It's fucking cold out, just get in."

"Slaves go in the trunk," Kyle replied.

"Except for you," Stan said without skipping a beat, "Now get in the passenger side."

Every car was made with a small compartment in the boot for the slave to go into.

Kyle did as he was told and got into the passenger side.

* * *

Their first stop was the registration office. Stan noted that they received a few glares as Kyle left the passenger seat. They walked through the double doors, where a woman was sitting behind a desk.

"San Diego Registration Office," She said as they walked in, "How may I help you?"

"I need to register my slave," Stan said, the statement making him feel sick, "I found him on the streets."

"Okay," The woman nodded, "Do you have his documents?"

Stan nodded and handed them over.

"What's your name?"

"Stanley Marsh."

The process took ten minutes and at the end of it, a new slave card was printed labelling Stan as Kyle's owner.

* * *

Stan then bought Kyle some clothes at the slave corner of the supermarket (Kyle had insisted and Stan was hesitant). Slaves typically wore a thin T-shirt that was typically white but could be any colour and white shorts with nothing on their feet and no underpants, which made Stan wonder how Kyle wasn't frostbitten even more.

After getting the clothes, Stan declared that he was hungry and he took Kyle to a fast food place, where they earned even more glares because Stan made Kyle sit on a seat.

"What's wrong with them?" Stan frowned.

"Slaves go on the floor," Kyle explained quietly, "They don't usually get food bought for them and they're usually tied down."

Stan looked at him with shock, so Kyle gestured to a metal hook at the edge of the table. Stan felt sick to his stomach and didn't eat much more of his meal.

"Excuse me," A boy their age who was quite fat said, "Can I ask you where you found this slave?"

Stan noted the sudden widening of Kyle's eyes, "The streets. Why?"

"This slave has run away from my household, he's a dirty fucking Jew."

"Well, I've had him registered as my own," Stan glared, "And we need to be leaving."

"I hope he serves you well," The boy said, "He'll be easily replaced."

The boy moved out of their way as Stan walked past and Kyle hastily followed him.

"Who was that?" Stan asked as he started the car.

"Eric Cartman," Kyle said, "The son of my old master and a racist fuckwad."

It was the first time Kyle had cursed around Stan and it made him chuckle, "He didn't seem too bothered that you didn't belong to him anymore."

"Why would he?" Kyle sighed, "We're expendable."

Stan sighed too. Kyle still firmly believed that he was worthless, Stan would have to change that.

* * *

He got his chance a week later. There had been a huge amount of snow that had fallen over a few hours and now they were snowed in, the violent blizzard could still be heard outside. As a slave, it was Kyle's job to make sure his master was comfortable, so he wrapped a blanket around Stan's shoulders and began to build a fire.

"Aren't you cold?" Stan asked as Kyle sat on the floor, wearing just a T-shirt and shorts as usual.

"It doesn't matter," Kyle said in reply.

Stan stood and moved to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and covering him in the blanket.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" Stan asked, "We're going to be living together, so why don't we learn about each other?"

Kyle gulped, a blush had formed on his freckled cheeks from Stan's gesture, "Um… my full name is Kyle Isaiah Broflovski and I was born in Wildwood, New Jersey."

"My full name is Stanley Randall Marsh," Stan said in return, "I was born in Denver, Colorado."

They sat thinking about something to say.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you become a slave? I know that it's to do with money but…"

"It's alright," Kyle cut him off, "The state told my parents that they could me or my brother, who was adopted, to slavery to make the last little bit of money to stop them becoming slaves. I was worth more money so they sold me," His eyes began to tear up, "Even though I was their only biological child and they said that they could never choose between us. They even had the fucking audacity to try and justify it to me! I haven't seen them since and I don't want to."

"I'm sorry," Stan frowned guiltily, "I didn't mean to bring up old wounds."

"It's fine," Kyle took a deep breath to try and calm himself, "I needed to get that off my chest, you're the first person I've ever told."

Stan pulled him in closer to reassure him, "It isn't good to keep things bottled up."

They stayed in that position for hours, just telling the other about themselves until they caught each other's eyes. Blue met green and they both leaned in, brushing their lips together.

"Um…" Kyle gulped, wondering whether he stepped out of line.

"Wow," Stan said, brushing his fingertips over his lips, "That felt…"

"Right?"

Stan nodded, "Yeah, right."

They leaned in again, lips making contact for longer this time.

* * *

When they woke up the next morning, the snowstorm could still be heard. Stan was leaning back against the couch with Kyle bundled into his chest, the blanket draped over the two of them.

"The weather's still bad," Stan sighed.

"Keen observation," Kyle mumbled sleepily.

Stan laughed, "C'mon let's get breakfast."

Stan stood and went to walk into the kitchen, Kyle followed, the blanket remaining around his shoulders. They made breakfast together, Kyle made Stan's like he was supposed to and Stan made Kyle's calling it 'leftovers'.

"So what happened last night," Stan asked.

"We kissed," Kyle answered.

"Why did you want to kiss me?"

Kyle gulped, he couldn't be thrown away, not so soon, "Why did you?"

"Because I think you're cool and I kind of like you."

"Really?"

Stan nodded.

"No one's ever liked me before," Kyle smiled sadly, "The slaves at my old place never spoke to each other and I wasn't very well liked back at Wildwood."

"Why not?"

"I was kind of a nerd, big on video games and books."

Stan nodded in understanding, "You didn't answer my question before, why did you kiss me?"

"Because you're kind of hot," Kyle mumbled, "And I really like you, you're the only person who's treated me with any form of decency in these last four years."

"You're kind of hot too."

"Thanks."

The room descended into awkward silence.

"What do we do now?" Kyle asked.

"We go on," Stan shrugged, "We could be _together_ if you want."

"I'd like that," Kyle admitted bashfully.

"Then let's do it."

Kyle nodded, a smile growing on his face.

* * *

After eating breakfast, Stan went upstairs to get changed, he heard Kyle enter his own room moments later. It was at this moment that Stan remembered the box of books that he'd brought with him when he left home, he'd read all of the ones he was interested in. After finishing dressing himself, he picked up the box and walked over to Kyle's room, kicking the bottom to get his attention.

"Are you dressed?" Stan shouted.

"Yeah!" Kyle replied.

"Can you open the door for me?"

Kyle opened the door, wearing a lime-green T-shirt along with shorts and his usual ushanka.

"I found these," Stan said as he walked in, "You said that you liked to read."

"Thanks," Kyle smiled brightly.

Stan put the box on the floor in the corner before turning to leave, he noticed that Kyle had taken the covers and pillow off the bed and laid them on the floor.

"Slaves sleep on the floor," Kyle muttered, noticing where Stan was staring.

"Not you," Stan replied as he grabbed the bedding and threw it back on the bed.

As soon at the bedding had been thrown onto the bed in a large heap, Kyle hugged Stan from behind.

"This is the nicest anyone's ever been to me," Kyle sobbed into his back, "Either you're the best person ever or there's something seriously wrong with you but you're amazing."

Stan smiled as he turned around in the hug to return it, "You don't need to cry dude."

"I'm sorry," Kyle took a deep breath to calm down, "I'm just…"

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah."

Stan pressed their lips together, wiping away any remaining tears, "I understand that you've been closed off for years, but you can open up with me."

Kyle nodded and pulled Stan into another hug.

* * *

"Heating's out," Stan frowned after a week of being stuck indoors.

Kyle shivered under the blanket that had wrapped around his shoulders for basically a week, "It's already cold enough."

Stan looked at him with concern, "Are you okay? I can go and grab another blanket or get a sweater if you want."

Kyle didn't reply, he just pulled the blanket much tighter around him, tucking his feet inside.

Stan sighed and walked over to him, pulling Kyle close and nuzzling his cold neck.

They had become much closer during the week, many hours were spent just talking to each other and learning more about the other.

* * *

The day became darker, and the weather got colder. Kyle's teeth had begun to chatter.

"Maybe I should just get you a blanket," Stan said to the Jew burrowed in his arms.

"Maybe you could warm me up," Kyle replied, not even looking up.

Stan smirked and raised an eyebrow, "How do you want me to warm you up?"

Kyle shrugged, "How do you want to warm me up?"

"I can think of a few way," Stan growled into his ear.

Kyle grinned, he knew exactly what Stan was thinking of, "Show me."

"Here or the bedroom."

"Bedroom."

Stan lifted Kyle bridal-style and sprinted up the stairs. As soon as he reached his bedroom, he basically threw Kyle onto his bed and straddled him, grinding their hips together as their lips met and their tongues tangled.

"Are you sure you want this?" Stan asked.

Kyle nodded, undoing Stan's coat (it was really cold).

Stan shrugged the coat from his shoulders and reattached their lips as Kyle undid the buckle on his jeans. Stan kicked them off, shedding his socks as he did so.

"Fuck, it is cold," He smiled, Kyle was always barefoot when indoors.

Kyle chuckled as he took off Stan's sweater and his T-shirt.

Stan realised that the amount of clothing was rather unfair, he was only in his underpants whilst Kyle still had his T-shirt and shorts on. He pulled Kyle's T-shirt off, making sure to thread the rope attached to his collar through the hole. He immediately attacked Kyle's nipples. He latched onto one with his mouth and gently rolled the other with his fingers.

Porn had taught him well.

Kyle whimpered softly, enjoying Stan's ministrations.

Stan stopped when he felt Kyle's shorts poke his belly. He gave Kyle a smile as he yanked them down his legs, freeing the Jew's erection.

"Someone's excited," Stan snickered.

"And you're not?" Kyle replied.

Stan didn't reply with words, instead he took Kyle's cock into his mouth, or rather the tip of Kyle's cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip.

"Shit," Kyle breathed, this situation was almost unheard of. A slave getting a blowjob from his master.

Stan pulled of soon after and removed his own boxers, "You're absolutely certain?"

Kyle nodded again.

Stan reached into his bedside cabinet to retrieve the lube Kyle had coated himself with on the first day, this time was different.

He squirted some into his fingers, a new nervousness taking over him, "Tell me if you want to stop, okay?"

Kyle nodded and Stan stole another kiss before pressing a finger into Kyle's hole, feeling the constriction already.

The finger moved slowly and made a circular movement. Stan pressed a second finger in and spread them.

Kyle hissed quietly and Stan pressed another finger in and spread again.

"Do it now," Kyle said, kissing Stan again.

Stan lathered his length in lube and gently pushed into Kyle's hole. Kyle whimpered as his legs wound around Stan's waist and his arms slung around his neck.

"Tell me when I can move," Stan whispered into Kyle's ear.

"Have you ever done this before?" Kyle asked.

"No," Stan answered, "Have you?"

Kyle shook his head, "It hurts."

"We can stop if you want."

"It's starting to hurt less," Kyle breathed, "Go."

Stan pulled halfway out before slowly pushing back in.

"Oh fuck," Stan whispered in awe, "You're so tight."

"You're so big," Kyle replied, giving Stan a boost to his ego.

Kyle gave a loud moan when Stan thrust straight into his prostate.

"Right there!" Kyle whined.

Stan studied Kyle's face as he thrust back in and found the spot which made Kyle unravel. He sped up his thrusts and grinded his dick straight into that spot. He reached over for the lube and squirted some into his palm, wrapping his hand around Kyle dick and stroking it in time with his thrust.

Pleasure from both ends overwhelmed Kyle and the waves of pleasure that washed over him brought him to his orgasm and he unloaded all over their stomachs. His arse tightened with his orgasm and pushed Stan over the edge, making him cum in his anus.

Stan and Kyle pressed their lips and tongues together and they lay in the afterglow.

"That was incredible," Stan breathed.

Kyle hummed in agreement.

Stan pulled the covers over them and pulled Kyle close.

* * *

Their relationship grew as months passed. Kyle had been with Stan for six months when Stan asked a question.

"Where were you going when I found you?"

Kyle turned to look at Stan, "What do you mean?"

"When I first found you in the alleyway. I think you might have been attacked."

"Just a few punches and kicks," Kyle admitted, "But I was trying to make my way to a town in Colorado where slavery doesn't exist."

"That's a long shot."

"I know," Kyle sighed, "That's why I originally decided to stay."

"What's the town called?"

"South Park."

"We could go together," Stan smiled, "Every time I see a slave being dragged by a collar, it makes me sick."

Kyle leaned up and kissed him, "I'd love it."

"Let's do some research," Stan pulled Kyle into his arms, "And then we can go."

"I love you," Kyle smiled brightly.

"I love you too."

* * *

One week later, after a day of driving, they found it.

 _Welcome to South Park_.

South Park was an incredibly small community, less than one hundred people. Slavery had been completely abolished, a practice that was usually illegal. The government made a bargain with the mayor of South Park, South Park would be left to do their own thing as long as they kept quiet. The bargain had been begrudgingly accepted.

"How can I help you?" A kindly old man smiled as they pulled into their new house.

"Is there any way to get my boyfriend's collar removed?" Stan asked.

"Just go down to the mechanic," The old man answered.

"Thank you," Kyle smiled as they grabbed boxes full of stuff, "We'll go after we've finished moving in."

* * *

It was quite late by the time they were able to go. The man in charge was about to close up, but he grabbed a blowtorch and led them over to a seat.

"Fuck, I'm nervous," Kyle took a deep breath.

Stan took Kyle's hand for reassurance as he bared his neck. It only took a few seconds, but there was a small burn mark left behind that Kyle was informed was permanent.

Stan pulled Kyle into a kiss as soon as they were out of the mechanic.

They were finally free.


End file.
